incidentally-anu

Ephemeral Eternity

2011-10-28T04:10:00.003+05:30

Everybody wants a fairy tale love story.
I for my part, want the complete Kandukonden Kandukonden climax scene, complete with Rahman's BGM to happen in real life. (Watch video below)

Something tells me there is no such thing as a fairy tale love story.
Does that mean there will be no Prince Charming, who will come and sweep you off your feet?
Lets just say, even if there is, he wont be "Charming" forever.
"Happily never after" would sum it all up, maybe?

Being in love is not as easy as falling in love.
What will you do when there's no more crazy, ridiculous, cant-live-without-you love?
Will you cry?
What will you do when your tears are shrouded by Mr.Charming's personal pursuits and ambitions?
Will you scream, fight and complain?
What will you do when you realize you are losing the fight?
Will you wait?
Will you forgive?
What if you cant find it in yourself to forgive?
Is that so bad?
Maybe it is.
It sure is.
If you cant forgive, you are not allowed a fairy tale love story.

There is a voice inside you that always has a knack for foreseeing what you will truly want in life.
Do you hear it?
How will you, if you are so full of anger, filth and disdain?
Clear up the clutter a little and you will hear a feeble voice, "Honey, He's a keeper."
Don't let that feeble voice fade away.
Its your only hope for a fairy tale love story.

There will be heart break, there will be happiness.
There will be anger, There will be apologies.
There will be silence, There will be laughter.
How can you let these ephemeral insignificant details taint innocent eternal love?

Something tells me, ofcourse there is such a thing as a fairy tale love story.
You will have it when you will have cleared up all the clutter and allowed that feeble inner voice to resonate with your complete being.
Thats when you will be truly swept off your feet.
You will then live happily ever after.

Aunty talks

2011-10-09T20:32:00.004+05:30

Venue: Sri Laksmhi Narasimha Kalyana Mandapam, Hyderabad, Andhra Pradesh
Occasion: Telugu Brahmin wedding
Background music: Mangala vayidyalu (Having the ability to make the most famous of Thyagaraja compositions hard to recognize)

Fat aunty (Wearing pattu saree and enough gold to bring a mallu bride's parent to shame): Hello ma. Nice dress.
Me: Thank you aunty. How are you?
Fat aunty: Fine fine. You dont know me I think. I am your mother's brother's sister-in-law's fourth cousin's class mate.
Me: Oh.. (Taking a moment to digest the information), Thats interesting.
Fat aunty: Actually I am searching for my son. He is a very good looking boy, 6ft tall, wearing red colour cooling glasses,
and yellow colour suit. Did you see him?
Me: No aunty... Sorry..
Fat aunty: Are you sure? He was here just 5 mins ago.
Me: I am sure aunty. If I had seen someone wearing red coloured shades and a yellow coloured "suit",
I wouldnt be able to get rid of that mental picture for a while.
Fat aunty: HAHAHAHAHAHA.. (throwing her head back and clapping her hands loudly) These days boys no.. Too much fashion craze..
Me: :)
Fat aunty: So what you do?
Me: I work for Qwest Communications in Bangalore as a Software Engineer.
Fat aunty: Oh.. Bangalore ah.. Bangalore girls are very fast..
Me: Oh, if you mean they grow fast in their career, yea, that may be true.
Fat aunty: No no.. I mean.. Fast.. you know..
Me: Oh ok..
Fat aunty: Dint understand? Means like.. Talking too much to boys.. Wearing short short middis (Telugu for skrirts).. Like that..
Me: Oh ok, you mean modern? .. Yea, thats true.
Fat aunty: But you are not like that I think. You are wearing decent dress.
Me: Well aunty, I'm here for a wedding :)
Aunty: Yes yes, But I want to tell one thing to you.. really.. dont misunderstand aa.. Really I am telling as your well wisher..
Me: Sure aunty, Go ahead..
Aunty: Why you wear chunni like that? Its not good.. You should wear in such a way that it will completely cover upper half of your body..
Me: Oh.. Well.. aunty.. I spent 5000 rupees on this dress and there's some beautiful patterns on the upper half of the dress.
Whats the point of covering it up with a piece of cloth?
Aunty: Aa like this only girls these days are doing.. Why you spend 5000 rupees on one dress? How much salary you get?
Me: Umm.. actually.. Well.. Enough for me to afford this dress .. (Uncomfortable giggle)
Aunty: Just I asked.. Nothing wrong no.. I am like attha (Telugu for aunt) to you.. My son is working in TCS. Dont tell anybody.. He is earning 3.5 lakhs per annum.(Huge grin exposing the pan filled gaps in her teeth)
Me: Oh thats Great.. Aunty actually I have to g...
Aunty: Ayyayyo where you are going? Sit some time and talk no.. You dont like me ah?
Me: No aunty, nothing like that..
Aunty: So how much your husband's salary?
Me: I'm not married aunty..
Aunty: Ayyayyo.. But why????
Me: I mean.. I just didnt get married.. yet..
Aunty: How much old you are?
Me: 24
Aunty: Thats too much.. Why? You are not finding any matches aah? You have high expectation aah? Dont have so much high expectations ma..
Girls only should adjust.. Otherwise you are searching and not finding matches aa? Oh.. Maybe because you are fat.. You should go to gym..
If you become slim, you will get very good matches.. Nowadays in computer you can search matches.. My son know all those website.. I will ask him to
tell to you.. Ayyo.. Actually forget.. I will give to your parents.. You are girl no.. Feel shy talking about matches and all.. I can understand.
Me: Ok sure aunty..
Aunty: Oh there is my son.. Oreyyyyyy Chantiiiii.. Itraaraaaaaa..
Chanti: (Typing something into his iPhone) What ma?
Aunty: Ayyoo.. where you went?
Chanti: Somewhere, why you want to know?
Aunty: Like this only he will do ma.. These days children no.. Too much they are doing..
Anyway, he is my son. Chanti.
Chanti: Actually my name is Prakash.
Aunty: Yea, but everyone will tell as Chanti or Chantigadu only..
Chanti: Please call me Praskash, I prefer that..
Me: Sure..
Aunty: When he was small only it was good.. After becoming big only.. so much vollu pogaru (Literal transalation: Body arrogance)
You only tell ma, what is wrong with Chanti name?
Me: Well.. Umm..
Aunty: Orey Chanti.. give her that webiste name ra.. That one.. Where we are finding girl for Bujjigadu..
Chanti: Gimme your email id, I'll email you the link from my iPhone. (This invited another paan-filled grin from Aunty)
Me: Well.. actually.. I'm good.. Thanks so much..
Aunty: Why??? Ok ok.. you call your mother.. I will advise her how to find good boy for you..
Me: My mom is busy with the bride..
Aunty: But...

Enter Aunty no. 2.. She just walks up to aunty no. 1 stares at my face, then my dupatta, then my forehead (She is mentally calculating the circumference
of my bottu (bindi). Clearly, not liking what she is seeing if her deepening disapproving frown was any indication) She quickly took the seat next to my Aunty.
Aunty no. 2: You know something?
Aunty no. 1: What what..
Aunty no. 2: No dowry only it seems..
Aunty no. 1: Ayyayyo.. why? Girl's parents cant afford aah?
Aunty no. 2: Boy said no need it seems..
Aunty no. 1: Ayyooooo Raaaama.. Boys these days..
Aunty no. 2: Then you know what else..
Aunty no. 1: What what..
Aunty no. 2: No panasapottu koora for dinner it seems..
Aunty no. 1: Hah.. How they can do like that?
Aunty no. 2: Return gift for guests is only 100 rupees worth it seems..
Aunty no. 1: Oh.. Too much less.. Anyway my gift to the boy and girl is 95 rupees, so its ok..
Aunty no. 2: And then you know something?
Aunty no. 1: What What..

Sorry can make a dead man alive

2011-10-08T01:50:00.002+05:30

Contrary to popular opinion, I CAN forgive and let go.
But there's a catch.
I need an apology.
When people say there's no "Sorry" in friendship or love, I think its BS.
The apology is not meant for me to feed or nurture my ego.
It tells me the person who has wronged me identifies and acknowledges that there was something wrong out there,
something that he shouldnt have done.
It reassures me it wont happen again.
Because I believe in apologies, I make sure I say sorry to someone I have wronged.
Maybe not instantly.
But certainly, when it dawns on me that I have done something unacceptable.

Seven years ago, I made a mistake.
Knowingly.
Giving myself inconceivably absurd justifications for what I was doing.
I continued making the mistake for three whole years.
I even invented ingenious ways to make the mistake while safely putting the guilt to rest.
My fourth year into the mistake, I had the ability to acknowledge I was being an idiot.
But funnily, I told myself its too late to change things.
At this point, it is imperative that I throw in a cliche: "Its never too late."

I spent the next three years guilt-ridden and anguished.
I was wary with every step I took, I was worried I would make the same mistake again.
This was understandably eating me up eveyday.
People told me to let go.
I just couldnt.
There were some happy moments. Some sad. Some very sad.
But no "very happy" moments.
Only because I was just not letting go.

It was like I had spawned a worker thread inside my mind to find a solution to this problem and forgotten about it, and three years later, it had suddenly completed its task.
Suddenly I knew.

I owed myself an apology.

And of course it worked.

I didn't hate the younger foolish me anymore.
I wanted to embrace her and say, "Its OK".
I don't hate her anymore.

I am now a happier person with lesser baggage and more dreams.
Crazy dreams.
The best kind.

The End

2011-06-13T10:20:00.001+05:30

She stood atop the building.
She looked down at people walking about, busy with their own lives.
No one knew she was up there.
They would, shortly.
She knew she had no other option.
Her decision was final.
She looked down at the people below again.
She wondered if heaven would be different.
Or who knows, maybe it will be hell.
"I dont think God likes suicides - Hell would be my guess."
Maybe at hell, people would be mean, just like they were here.
But maybe hell-dwellers wouldnt pretend to be nice and then backstab you as they do here.
She lifted her heels up.
She was excited about this.
No more cheaters. No more empty promises. No more heartbreak.
She could not believe she took so long to consider this option.
Aah! This was it! The moment had arrived.
She was one step away from becoming free.
She took a tiny notebook and a pen from her pocket, and wrote,
"Sweetheart,
Do bad things. That way you will end up in hell. Maybe in hell, we can work things out."
She folded the note and kept it safely inside her pocket.
She looked up, and took that final step.
As the wind gushed throug her hair, she thought,
"I may be a coward to do this, but I'm brave enough to accept it."

Dusk's Embrace

2011-05-15T04:06:00.003+05:30

Smiling down at me,
There you stood at the threshold,
My shivering shoulders,
In your reassuring clasp you tightly hold.

"Fear not my love,
For faith and endurance I ask,
Worry not my love,
I will come back by dusk."

From sunrise to sunset,
I reminisced your words,
"In vain, you remain upset",
Sang the dulcet distant birds.

Yet here I am waiting for you,
As every dawn goes by,
I await your return,
As each noon journeys by,
I fondly envisage our union,
Everytime the sunset glimmers in my wet eye,
I will eternally wait for you,
In dusk's bitter embrace, said I.

Tell me why

2011-03-15T01:44:00.002+05:30

The one thing I went looking for, was the only thing I could not see,
You opened my eyes my love, you taught me to find you in me.

You swept me off my feet,
You drove me to madness most discreet.

Your presence unfailingly made me stronger,
Your absence made my heart grow fonder.

So how could the lack of me not haunt you in your dreams?
How could you consign to oblivion, however great the distance seems?

Why did you see me off to a world of agony unfathomable?
Why did you choose to deem my tears and anguish invisible?

For oft when I am heart wrenched and come undone,
Our unspeakable memories quietly tell me you're still the one.

So tell me why, the more I ache for you, the more you torment me.
Tell me why the more I chase you, the more you elude me.

Loneliness

2010-12-18T23:11:00.003+05:30

The thing about loneliness is that its addictive. However ridiculous this sounds, I just cant seem to get enough of it. Now dont confuse this with solitude. There's a thin line of difference. Solitude is SUPPOSED to feel good. On the other hand, this something out of the ordinary I am experiencing.

I have to be honest. My initial reaction was that of sadness, disappointment, a constant consciousness of that void. But this abnormality started about a month ago. Its really complicated, the psychology behind it all. I think it all emanates from the fact that loneliness brings inside you a sense of independence and pride. After enduring the sad phase, you develop a sense of immunity. "Ah! I dont need anyone else to keep me happy all the time! I am not emotionally dependent on anyone! I'm fine all by myself! I dont have to keep ringing up someone all the time to feel a sense of security!" These thoughts can drive you the extent of craving for more and more loneliness. They can make you go out of your way to not call up friends, to not stay in touch, to lock your feelings up so safely that even you dont know where to find them anymore. It starts to feel great.

Until you realize that one day, when you do have all those people you missed so much back with you, you may have so brutally, killed that part of yourself that appreciated the relationship you shared with them, that you have to start from scratch all over again. Thats when you'll start looking frantically for that place where you locked up all your feelings deep inside you somewhere, and you finally realize loneliness is not that great after all.

...

2010-07-05T23:56:00.003+05:30

Time has come to a standstill,
Memories, indelible, in my heart fill,
Of late night calls,
And heart-warming smiles,
Of dreamy gazes,
And walks that went on miles.

I'm overpowered by this insanity,
I know not what to do,
Maybe its just me,
But it will always be you.

I want to go back to that beach,
I want those waves to rush to our feet,
Your eyes said it all in that moment of silence,
At that heavenly hour when my heart skipped a beat.

Eight hours of travel,
Fifteen minutes of silence,
Heart shaped balloons,
Pink and white,
Stuffed toys holding hearts,
Alphabet-shaped fries,
That read "Happy B'day Anu",
The scar on my forehead that refuses to leave,
A week-old message sitting in my inbox,
Random humming of Ilayaraja tunes,
Recollections of stolen glances and smiles at a wedding,
Are only my favourite excuses to think of you.

Reclaiming innocence

2009-11-05T16:18:00.002+05:30

Many people dont know the difference between innocence and childishness. I have often seen people use them interchangeably, like they were synonyms.

This really annoys me. Because i have a clear distinction between the two in my head.

Infact, Many dictionaries even define childish as 'lack of maturity'. Depends on how you define maturity. In my mind, maturity has a totally different meaning.

Innocence is purity. Where there is innocence, there is maturity (I know.. many people think of them as antonyms). The ability to look at the world in such straighforwardness as a child would. Uncomplicate things around you. Innocence is possessed by the soul. Innocence takes you closer to God.

Childishness is a deficiency. It is one of the hindrances to maturity. (It is not the opposite of maturity). It is an underdeveloped state of the MIND and nothing more than that. It is nothing to be proud of. It is DEFINITELY not something to strive for, or preserve as a good quality. If the mind cannot grow up, then just forget about the soul.

I wrote this post to explain one of my comments on a friend's post. But i may have complicated things further. If you were not able to get me (and if you want to), read the post again, putting aside your predefined notions on the three words around which the post revolves. If you still dont get it, one of us is wrong. I know that doesnt lead to anything significant. I am not preaching. I am reflecting.

Get a life!!

2009-07-16T15:17:00.003+05:30

Brookefield bus stop, July 16th 09, 10 AM. Two aunties standing at the bus stop with me.
Aunty 1: Oh my God! Just look at that girl there in the yellow dress.
Aunty 2: Yeh aaj kal ki ladkiyan na.. kya kya kapde pehenti hain.. sharm aani chahiye..
Aunty 1: Aise kapde pehenke ghoomenge tho bechare ladkon ka kya kasoor hai!!
Aunty 2: Sahi kaha! Boys will be boys. Unki body chemistry hi aisi hai. Girls should be more careful na.Kya kya gande kapde pehenti hain!!

If my bus hadnt come at that very second, I would have brutally murdered those moronic aunties right there and remorselessly felt like my life on earth finally had some meaning to it!!

Sitting in the bus, i was fuming with anger and hatred towards that entire cult of thick-headed losers with half-baked sexist ideas. Especially the WOMEN who think, in some wierd way, that its pretty cool that they can let down their own sex. Women who think 'emancipation of women' is just a fancy phrase you can throw around to sound cool. Women who think girls being carefree is 'slutty' and guys being desperate is 'natural'. Its so disappointing.

When it come to girls from tranditional Indian families (who have a muddled up meaning for the word 'traditional'.. i'm so glad my parents dont fall into this category), there's a predefined protocol to be followed. No questioning allowed.

Walk straight, but not so straight that it looks like you are 'ready to get laid' (I have no idea what that has to do with the way i walk!!)
Walk fast, but not so fast that it looks vulgar.
Walk with your head down.. doesnt matter if you are run down by a truck. Its better to die than to look men in their eyes.
Sit like a girl. That means, one leg crossed over the other. Otherwise you are 'shameless'.
Talk JUST enough.
Smile JUST the right amount.
Dont leave your hair open. Come on! Thats like, blatantly unchaste.
Dressing!! How could I forget!! No tight jeans, No short tops, Nothing sleeveless. No low necklines, Nothing that will not 'reassuringly' graze against your ankles every now and then. Oh what the hell! Lets throw in a tight fitting salwar without a dupatta into the category too. Lets be fair to them. They work so hard in framing these rules.

Its so sad, that an average Indian today, will teach his daughter to dress 'appropriately', rather than teach his son to stop gaping at girls! The answer to that, its NATURAL for guys. It HAPPENS at that age. Well lots of things happen to girls too at that age. They want to dress like a film star. They want to look attractive. They want to flaunt their looks. Just like guys like to show off their muscles. They want to wear hep clothes. Just like guys want to ride the latest bike in town. They want to be judged for what they are and not for their adherence to some nonsensical set of rules that only those moronic aunties think is befitting.

My favourite childhood things

2009-05-14T18:40:00.000+05:30

1. My Mom's alphabet shaped pakoras.
2. Brown paper covered notebooks, separate ones for classwork and homework.
3. My pink micro-mini shorts
4. The yellow-coloured Enid Blyton I had read atleast 50 times.
5. My Pink Report Card with 'First Rank' written in my teacher's handwriting.
6. My white satin ribbons for my pony tails, which used to fly in the opposite direction when I used to run.
7. My lucky skipping rope, on which I could skip 100 times continuously.
8. Wrestling with my Dad, and my Dad letting me win, taking care of making it a convincing win for me.
9. Studying Science and Maths with my sister.
10. My Mom feeding dinner to me, narrating the Ramayana, the very same episode with the golden deer each time, beacause it was equally interesting every single time.

The Language of the Soul

2009-03-19T10:56:00.003+05:30

Music is something I have been wanting to write about for quite sometime now. But its such an extensive subject, it has no boundaries whatsoever. So I was very nervous to write on this topic, as the formal training I have received is like a grain of sand in the boundariless desert.

It was always my passion to learn music right from childhood. But circumstances never permitted. I started learning Carnatic classical music during my B Tech, but I had to discontinue due to unavoidable reasons. On December 31st 2008, my Mom asked me what my resolution for 2009 would be. I was blank. She said: "You know what. I think you should make a resolution to start learning music again. Get rid of all your inhibitions. I will help you find a guru." Thanks to my Mom, I am pursuing my passion once again, and it feels so right.

Music, to me, is a very personal thing. I believe that no two individuals can interpret a song, a line or even a note, for that matter, in the exact same way. Scientifically, it's just a sound wave, with a particular frequency (pitch), amplitude (loudness) and overtones (sound quality). Its basic Physics. But what makes music so special and gives it that abstract nature, is the way the listener transalates the Physics of it all into myriad emotions, giving it his very own personal flavour, that no one else on earth has the ability to replicate.

Our ancestors have classified raagas into Morning Raagas, Evening Raagas, Sad Raagas, Joyful Raagas etc. With all due respect to their unfathomable expertise on the subject, I happen to have a different opinion. I say, let the listener interpret the raaga. I find a sad raaga sad, probably because I have heard a lot of situational sad songs in that raaga and I have been unconsciously programmed to interpret that raaga as a sad one.

I am not sure about what I am trying to get at. Just going with the flow. I guess what I am trying to say is, music can be appreciated only when you personalize it, let it to be a part of your system, and allow it to communicate with your inner sensibilities. Your interpretation of a piece of music is like your fingerprint, its unique :) No worries about plagiarism :) They can copy the notes of your musical piece but they cant reproduce that feeling you felt when you created it. They wont be able to bring to life the same thoughts and emotions that it helped you discover in yourself.

A particular piece of music pleases me immensely, because it resonates with my inner sentiments and intuitions. I call such a piece soul-stirring because I can actually feel my soul dancing inside with joy :) Music, to me, is self-discovery!

The Beach

2009-02-17T16:55:00.000+05:30

“Faster, Faster!” , she told herself, as she ran swiftly along the beach. She was feeling dizzy, she was thirsty, but there was no time to stop. Her feet were beginning to blister from the hot sand. She was drenched in sweat. The sun was dipping. She had to be there before sunset. She had to be in that place. She wanted to smile again. She wanted to rediscover that only reason she was still alive. She finally dropped down on her knees, when she reached that rock with her name engraved on it. She was panting heavily, staring ahead, the wind blowing her hair onto her face. She hastily moved it away. She did not want to miss even a second of this. She sat there thinking about what this place meant to her, thinking about the times she spent, the promises that were made to her, and that one look in his eyes, that made her defy all, that made her run away from her family, that gave her the hope for a new beginning. But now, the sun had set, just like it did every evening when she sat there waiting for him to come. Sometimes she sees him come out of the bushes with open arms. She runs as fast as she can. But his image moves further away, with every step she takes.

Someone needs to tell her that what she sees is but a mirage. Someone needs to tell her he will never come. Someone needs to tell her, he is sitting right now in his living room, with his 2-year old son, or having a good laugh with his beautiful wife. Someone needs to tell her that that he probably does not remember her name anymore. Someone needs to tell her, that she should go back home, that her parents will take her back with open arms.

It is dark. A tall man with an unshaven face walks up to her and smiles through his drunken eyes. He sees her there everyday. His smile wants to say, “I don’t want you to become like me. Go back home. He will never come for you.” She looks back at him through her tear filled eyes, stands up, and starts walking towards the rock. She kisses his name, engraved next to hers on the rock and goes back, knowing very well she would come back tomorrow, only to go through the very same sequence of events. But the run along the beach, her heart racing in her chest, the memory of the look in his eyes, her love, her faith in him, the anticipation, the audacity of her hope that he will come back this time, is what will make her come back there tomorrow at sunset.

The Night Before The EndSem

2009-02-03T11:27:00.000+05:30

NITK, Ladies Hostel, Room 007 (The Bond Room). It is 10 pm. The night before DSP end sem exam.

Me: “Hi nasha. What is the syllabus?”
Nasha (watching a movie on her laptop, with a DSP book next to her): “I dunno man. I am just going to do this one chapter perfectly. I don’t care about the rest.”

That is SO nasha!! Why did I even bother asking! I venture into putting the same question to shana, her roommate. Its difficult to find her among all those volumes around her on the table. But she is already distracted by our conversation, she turns around and gives me the trademark exam-shana look. It gives me the shivers.

The exam-shana look: “Why the hell are you in my room? Go ask someone else. As if I don’t have to put up with enough nonsense from my excuse for a roommate!! GET OUT!!!”

I ran for my life. Wow! How does she do that with those eyes??

Down the corridor, to Room 013 (Can be easily mistaken for a mini library). I open my mouth to ask the inmate the same question.

Pooh: “Hi Anu! I don’t know anything.. I don’t know anything.. I don’t know anything… (upto infinity)… “

Me: “I just wanted to know the syllabus.”

Pooh: “Oh thaaaat!! Here, this whole book. And yea, half of this one too.”
I wanted to faint looking at the sizes of those books.

Me(pulling myself together): “Ok Thanks ya. Don’t worry. You will do well.” (Pooh dint need that. She was the topper of our class.)

Pooh: “Thanks Anu.”
Bang! The door shuts.
Dragging my feet across the corridor, I come to Room 005:

Me: “Hey girl. Please tell me you know the syllabus.”

Height(looking up from her book): I messaged CR. I will tell you once I know. Hey can you pass me that book from my table. I am too lazy to get up from my bed.”

That’s usual. Anyone who visits Room 005 has to become a victim of Height’s laziness. But she seemed like the sole source for information on the syllabus. So I dint wanna mess with her. So I gave her the book and walked out of the room in despair.

Room 002, my last hope. I walk in, crossing my fingers:

Piggy: “Girl I was looking for you everywhere! Where were you? I have doubt in 4th chapter, 3rd page, 2nd para, 1st line.”

Me (crying now): “I don’t even know the syllabus. “

Piggy: “Even I don’t. But I know this chapter is there and important too. I made a note of it in pencil in my notebook on the top left corner. Don’t worry. Come and study here with me.”

A voice in my head: “Piggy is a wannabe nerd. But she is really sweet. She actually agreed to watch over me while I am studying. That is truly a challenge. She must really love me.. Awwww!! “ (Plus she writes really good lecture notes)

I go to my room to bring my books. My roommate has just come back from a treat.

Me: “Don’t you have an exam tomorrow? You look so chill!”

RT: “Yea I do. But the prof gave away 7 of the 10 questions coming in the paper. I just need to study 5 of those to pass. Cool huh?”

Me: “Yea.. cool. Bye then.”

Back to Room 002:

Me: “Aaaaaaaarggghhhh!!!”

Piggy: “What is the matter with you???”

Me: “Why did I take EnC??? RT is so chill!! I should have taken Chemical or IT or Civil too!!”

Piggy (throwing her book aside): “Yea man. This is torture. I think I am going to flunk.”

Umbrella woman (entering the room): “Yea me too. I am going to flunk.. I am going to flunk.. I am going to flunk.. (upto infinity).. “

Piggy (her usual sweet self): “Don’t worry girl. We’ll figure out something.”

UW: “Yea ok. Anyways, in my 3rd revision I found out that I was not really confident about the Bode plot for a second order Butterworth low pass filter. Could you help me out?”

Me (out loud): “WTF!!”

Piggy: “Yea I’ll try. I am not sure though.. Let me check my notes.”

UW: “Your notes?? Ok actually.. its ok.. I’m fine.. I will go ask Pooh.. See you.. “

We could not belive our ears!!! Somebody had just insulted Piggy’s notes-making capability!! How dare she!!

Me: “Don’t feel bad Piggy! Your notes rock!! Don’t listen to her.”

Piggy: “Yea, I know, they do!”

Shana and Nasha (together entering the room): “We need a break!!”

Me: “Oh.. you girls done with most of the portion?”

Shana: “I finished one chapter.”

Nasha: “I finished one page.”

Height: “Just got news from CR on portion. Everything he has taught in class. No particlar book as such. Piggy, we need your notes!! “

Piggy (beaming with delight): “Yea sure. Lets all study together!! “

Nasha: “Lets watch an episode of F.R.I.E.N.D.S. Will help us freshen up.”

The rest of us: “Yes!! “

Its 3 am, we finally decided to stop watching after finishing half of 6th season. We decide to sleep for a while, and also that for the zillionth time, group study was not working.

Me: “Piggy, wake me up at 4.”
Piggy: “Yea sure.”

It was pitch dark. In the distance I could see a tiny red light. I started running towards the light. The voice was luring me, “I can help you pass tomorrow.” I was panting for breath. I approached closer to the light.. It was a woman, with an LED in her hand. She had long curly hair, an evil smirk on her face, and what was unmistakeably a female beard. “Muhahahahahaha” came the evil laugh from her. “You are going to fail tomorrow” came a heavy male voice, from a female’s mouth. “Muhahahahahahahahaha…..” Her laughter was echoing everywhere. “No No No.. I want to pass!!! I will study!! I really will.!!” But it was too late.. She had already reverse- biased the LED and the light was gone.

Somebody was shaking me. “Anu.. wake up. Are you ok??? “ It was RT.

Me (coming back to my senses): “Yea I am fine. Just had a bad dream. Whats the time?”

RT: “Its 6 30. You finished studying?”

Me: “Whaaaaaat??? Its 6 30?? Piggy dint wake me up?? “

RT: “She came every now and then, but you told her to **** off. So she felt bad and went away.”

I ran to the bathroom, washed my face, came back to my room, picked up my books and rushed outside to the entrance of the hostel block. Some girls were already walking up and down doing some last minute mugging up.

I sat there studying, dozing off in between, being woken up by the frequent mosquito bites. Thanks little fellas, I passed because of you!

Little drops of water

2009-01-21T16:02:00.003+05:30

"Little drops of water make the mighty ocean." My sister taught me this proverb when I was in third standard. I was so fascinated. Even the mighty ocean could be expressed as (a tiny drop of water X x (a very huge number)). But being the pessimist I am sometimes, what bothers me is the unfathomable magnitude of 'x'.

Yes, living in a country like India, we have grown up with the idea that, you working alone, cannot change the state of affairs around here. "Yeh India hai. Yahan pe kuch bhi chalta hai." "Indians will never change." "These politicians are such... (censored)..." Remember the last time you said or heard something like that?? Yes, the government is doing a deplorable job, but have you done your bit?

Everyone may not be able to start a revolution. Each one need not turn into a hero overnight. Just follow the basic rules of citizenship. That is definitely not a lot to ask of anyone. You can start by not dropping your chocolate wrapper on the main road. Your friends will make fun of you. But deep down they are guilty. Inspired too. They know its the right thing to do. But its probably 'uncool' to admit that, even to themselves. Let two friends of yours look at you and change. They will change four others, who will change eight others. A binary tree of awareness is thus born.

Next time the traffic policeman asks you to strike a deal with him, tell him you prefer paying the fine instead. He will change over time. If you are girl, and you have a close friend who is a guy, tell him how you feel when a random guy whistles at you on the road, or stares at the wrong places, or uses the sudden brakes in a bus journey to his wretched advantage. If he is really your friend, he will change. And change others too. Atleast he will think before he passes a comment on a girl passing by next time. Thats achievement enough.

Do not start with an assumption that no one will change or with the its-like-that-only attitude. Put your foot down. People will make fun of you. Let them. They are just guilty and helpless. They use 'humour' as a defense mechanism. Lets feel bad for them.

So for love of God, do not badmouth the country or the government or the 'system', without executing what happens to be nothing more than your duty. In Mahatma Gandhi's words, "Be the change you want to see in the world."

Thanks Aru, for teaching me the proverb.
Thanks Ramesh, for inspiring me to write this post.

The Hypocrite that I am

2009-01-20T10:45:00.003+05:30

I demand to be treated with respect, But I can throw occasional insults at you.
I demand to be treated equally, But I secretly want you to take notice I belong to the fairer sex.
I demand total privacy, But I want to be told your deepest personal secrets.
I demand complete freedom, But I can also demand an explanation for every step you take.

I must be loved, But I can go around pin-pointing faults in you.
I must be kept happy, But I am allowed to ruin your day with my endless whining.
I must be pampered like a child, But that allows me to childishly blame you for everything.
I must be told how wonderful I am, But I will never understand it is you who has made me that.

Because, in my own tiny personal world, I am allowed to be the hypocrite that I am.

Looking back...

2009-01-07T17:39:00.004+05:30

Today, my very close college friend came from Hyderabad for an interview here. I was still sleeping when she reached in the morning. She came up to my bed and said, "Wake up Anu. We have first hour!!". For a moment my mind instructed me to sit bolt upright (only to fall back to sleep the very next moment.. ) as I used to in hostel. I got up and we both burst out laughing.

So much has changed since college. I still remember the day I joined. The registrar saw my 12th percentage and said, "So, we have a good student in you.". Seriously, feels like ages ago. But I still remember getting a 7.8 in my 1st semester and crying over it. I would go on to find out that it would be the highest SGPA over all 8 semesters. I remember the professor asking questions, and the sound of calculators clicking away, before I could even complete understanding the data given, let alone figuring out how to approach it. I remember getting 0/20 in two Engineering Graphics questions because my initial positions itself were wrong. I remember crying infront of the whole class. I remember third semester, the near suicidal state I was in. And the fourth. But I also remember getting used to under-performing in the fifth. :) Telling myself,"No point trying.". I remember placements, and every single company which rejected me because I was a six-pointer.

Those were the days when going for class meant, making sure your attendance requirement of 75% was just met. When going to mess meant, you were really really hungry and you could not postpone eating any longer. When going for an exam meant, hoping the invigilator would be an MTech so that copying would be possible. When getting your marks meant, another long call from home. When having a viva meant, literally controlling peeing in your pants. When Microprocessor class meant, solving that day's sudoku. When Mom's lecture meant, fighting sleep through an eternity of PPTs. When doing assignments meant, mass-copying them. When a BTech degree meant,well, unfortunately, nothing.

But thats just half of the story. Those were also the days when singing on stage made me feel like a celebrity. When going for a treat to Mangalore, was the best thing that happened in the whole week. When having a fest, meant extension of block timings more than anything else. When dancing in the DJ nite got all the frustration out of me. When watching my friends dance on stage or shoot a 3-pointer in a crucial match mattered the most. When going to DC meant getting a much-needed motherly hug from aunty. When coming back to hostel at 9:45 pm with my head held high, meant I was a final year. When sitting atop a hillock, at sunrise, with the temple behind me, the Arabian sea in front of me, and my best friend beside me, meant there was someone to care for me in the midst of all that chaos and anarchy in my life.

A Thousand Questions

2008-12-19T17:37:00.002+05:30

This morning, I was on the bus on my way to work. As usual, I found a cozy corner of the bus, and opened my book. My half-an-hour of bus travel is the only time I get to ‘read for pleasure’. That half-an-hour, I love. The latest book I have been reading is the Autobiography of Mahatma Gandhi. It’s a book I should have read long ago. Well, better late than never.

So I hop onto my bus, find my seat and start reading. Some two stops prior to my destination, a family entered the bus. Mother, Father and Daughter. They sat behind me with the 8-10 year old girl between her parents. They looked like a poor family. The parents eventually got into an argument of some sort. They were a little noisy, but I decided to concentrate on my book.

Just then, I felt something brush against my shoulder. I turned around swiftly, and I met the face of the little girl staring at my book. She looked up at me and smiled. “Can you read English?” I asked her in my broken Kannada. She moved her head sideways indicating a ‘No’. “Can you read Kannada?” Answer in the negative again. “Do you go to school?” This time she just stared at me. Like I was suggesting a novel idea, or maybe a ridiculously far-fetched one. She chose not to answer that one, and went back to staring at the book.

I wonder what she was thinking. Was she trying to decipher those funny-looking shapes on the paper? Was she hoping that, by staring at it for long enough, she would be able to make some sense of it? Or was she just hoping against hope that, maybe, one day, she could go to school, and grow up to read the book in my hand and many more of the kind?

It was a conversation of three questions, two gestures and million thoughts racing through my head. It made me realize one thing for sure. God has bestowed wonderful things upon me. My life, my family, my friends, my body that is complete without even a toe nail less, and enough wealth that made my going to school a routine affair and not a luxury. I have no right to take even the SEEMINGLY smallest of these for granted.

My stop had almost come. I closed my book and turned back to say good-bye to her. She looked at the cover, and gave a wide smile. It had Mahatma Gandhi’s picture on it. Maybe she had seen that old man, with the round glasses, on a rupee note, and had recognized him. I was glad I was the cause for that innocent smile, with a thousand questions behind it.

Dieting Blues

2008-12-02T15:26:00.000+05:30

Whoever said “Nothing is Impossible”?? I can tell you of one thing that I have found, in every one of my several tries, literally impossible. DIETING. It’s almost as if, the moment I decide to diet, the whole world conspires against me and makes sure I fail. I mean, it’s almost cruel.

The other day, I decided to start dieting, come what may. No fats, carbs intake tending to zero, only fruits and vegetables. I make these plans with a lot of enthusiasm. Yes, that’s probably one thing I can take credit for.

I woke up the next morning, went to my aerobics class and did a little more than what the trainer expected of me, not caring about the weird glances I was getting. I returned back home, commending myself on my decision, my ‘determination’ (too early to say.. but nevertheless.. ) and again, my enthu, blissfully ignorant of what the rest of the day had in store for me. That’s when I suddenly smelled the unmistakable, extremely welcoming aroma of masala dosa, cooked with generous quantities of oil. I try to block it out, but my nose has already sent a signal to my brain, and almost instantly, my mouth is watering!! The evil voice in my head: “Mummy has taken the trouble to make dosas for you early in the morning, only because you like them. How can you refuse such love-filled dosas?? How can you hurt her?? It’s ok to sacrifice your dieting to see that happiness in her eyes when you are enjoying the dosas.” Such heavy sentiment!! Enough to make me devour enough dosas for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Yes, guilt making its first appearance. Anyways, “Don’t cry over spilled milk” is what I tell myself to get over it and off I go for work. No place for sentiments here. Purely professional approach. I go to pantry, drink sugarless tea, and congratulate myself, and imagine that it is going to undo the damage done by the masala-dosa-gluttony. I come back to my desk with a huge smile stuck on my face, when I read the new mail, “Bday chocolates at B-235!!” Ok, no chocolates, but its courtesy to wish at least. High hopes!! Its dairy milk at B-235. Those who know me also know I WORSHIP dairy milk. It goes against my principles to say no to dairy milk. So I pick up one, eat it, pick up another, eat it in a flash too. I use my left hand to hold my right hand back, but in vain. It gropes for the third one and gets it too. The smile has wiped out. “Don’t you have any will power?? Come on, Anu. You can do better!!” I tell myself.

For lunch, I eat a home-made meal and put some of the guilt to rest. But guess what, I told you it was my friend’s birthday. Ten minutes after lunch, I am face-to-face with a black-forest cake. It’s almost as if I can hear it calling out to me. The evil voice again: “Come on!! You don’t need to make a scene in front of all these people!! Go ahead! Be a sport!! Help yourself!! Its black forest... Mmmmmm… “. Now who can resist that?? Within a fraction of a second, I make a huge piece of the cake vanish. J

“That’s enough Anu. Fruits for tea-time. No junk!!” the helpless voice in my head says. And yes, I do go for a fruit bowl. Just when I am about to order, my friend says, “What beautiful weather! We should have hot, hot bhajjis in this weather. Wait, I’ll go get!!” Damn it!! Why should the weather be beautiful only on the day I decide to diet!! And why should my friend come up with such an irresistible idea!! (Now you get why I call this a conspiracy, don’t u!!) So deep-fried bhajjis added to my cumulative sins for the day too.

The helpless voice:” It’s ok... Don’t feel bad. Just skip dinner. Will undo most part of the damage. Now, cheer up!!” Ok, smile re-appearing slowly. I go back home, finally happy that I can make amends. My dad looks extra-happy.” I got a huge bonus!!” Yeyyyy!!! “I got you your favorite flavor of Baskin Robbins ice-cream and your mother has made biryani”!!! The evil and the helpless voice together:” Its time to celebrate!! Dieting?? What’s that???”

After a sumptuous meal, I get into my cozy bed, telling myself, with that same enthusiasm, “From tomorrow I will go on a diet, come what may.”

Making sense of Success

2008-11-26T16:26:00.003+05:30

‘Success’ is the most abused word in the English dictionary. I do not think much of the meaning most commonly attributed to it. For me, even the CEO of a multi-billion dollar company is not successful, so long as he still has some elementary questions about himself still left unanswered.

I see some people, very settled in life: A wonderful job, the best spouse one could ask for, lovely children, and enough money to lead an extravagant life ahead. Ideally, they should have begun to untwine themselves from the loops of worldly pursuits, and started seeking what more life has to offer. But No. If he is a Manager, he wants to be a Director. If he is the Director, he very well wants to be the CEO. This meaningless pursuit, this wild-goose chase will advance, for what we often don’t realize is, a lost cause.

Shouldn’t it easily strike one, that life can’t just be about one, one’s family, growing in one’s career, amassing wealth and earning a name in society? Is this ‘success’? Yes, it is, for most people. But not for me. I don’t care if I become enormously famous to the whole world, if I still haven’t answered this very question: “Why was I created?”. The course of life cant be as plain simple as we see it. God is a genius. It certainly isn’t that simple.

There is another kind of ‘successful’ people I have met. Who cant be happy. They cannot smile, and they also do not understand why people laugh. I do not begin to understand of what use their ‘success’ is!! If somebody asks me what my goal in life is, I would say, “To be happy”. It is not as easy as it sounds. It is only when you have a pure heart, a clean mind and a clear conscience that you can experience happiness en masse. But why do I need to be happy? Because it is only when I am happy, that I can connect with my soul. Why do I need to connect with my soul? To give it what it needs the most, the reason why God created me, to achieve what I think is ‘success’ in the true sense.

Random Thoughts of a perplexed mind...

2008-11-11T19:25:00.001+05:30

For oft, when on my couch I lie,
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude;
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the daffodils.

This post has very little to do with this extract from Wordsworth’s truly magical poem, “Daffodils”. It just got me thinking. ‘Solitude’ is a word that can be perceived in so many ways, depending on who you are. For my part, I associate it with words like peace, introspection, prayer and scarcity (of solitude). My friend literally shudders at the mere suggestion of the idea. She can’t imagine a life without all the bustling activity, her group of friends, her family, all the conversation. My sister is a very happy person. She could be alone all her life, and live every moment of it blissfully. This made me wonder. Why is there such a stark difference in the way each one of us perceives such a simple concept as that?

For that matter, take a color. Say, Red. For some it symbolizes love. For some, danger. Two completely different emotions effected by the same color. Doesn’t this go to show that each one of us has a different perception of pretty much everything in the world? One might say, pretty simple. A direct result of each one of us being unique individuals. Sounds ok. But do we attach as much significance to this fact as it deserves? If we do, then why do some of us expect people or things around us to fall into a rigid pattern, for no apparent reason? Aren’t we, infact, forcing redundancy into a world that has authenticity in every splendid inch of it?

Why do our children have to grow up only into engineers or doctors? Why should all schools teach the same subjects? Why should we dress ‘fashionably’ instead of whimsically? Why does the perfect bride have to be fair, slim and shorter than the groom? Why should all movies be so obnoxiously identical? Think. Why should we program our lives into a mundane, socially acceptable pattern? Why should there be a formula and convention for everything we do? Why cant we be our original selves, perceive ourselves and the world around us with a mind that is not corrupt with pre-meditated standards? Stereotyping is the worst sin to commit against the marvel called existence.

Good Job, Bad job

2008-11-10T11:17:00.000+05:30

There is a point in life, when it feels like a job in hand is the only thing that can stop things from going haywire, the only thing that can put things into perspective, the only thing that will get you past that seemingly biggest hurdle in life. Yes it’s the placement season we’re talking about. The only 2 -3 month period of Engineering life, when we bother to open our books (sneezing as we dust them after years of abandonment), or at least get acquainted with the title and the author and what the hell the guy wants to say anyway .

And so we begin. Or maybe not. We have a fundamental issue here. Where do we begin from? Three years. That’s about 40 subjects. Which one do I need to study for which company? First of all, what kind of company do I want to sit for? And why? What do I want to achieve in life? Oops! I should have thought about that three years ago. (I know what you are thinking. Late realization! ) And so we start pondering, even go to the extent of becoming philosophical. What do I really want to do with my life? What is the purpose of life? The first month of placements flashes by, and I am still thinking, trying to unravel the mystery of life and existence.

One month over. Everyone around me is getting placed. I’m still jobless. What do I do now??? Family and friends keep calling up to find out if I have a job yet. Seriously, why cant people mind their own business!! We have ready-made answers (or should I call them excuses) for them. Some of them sound like this: There’s this company I’m waiting for (a fictitious one obviously), Placements in my college are bad (Please note I come from an NIT, and people envy us for the number of companies that visit our campus), The market is bad, no one’s giving jobs easily (I wonder how the others are getting placed then), My branch is only like that (It should have been, I am only like that). And so we complain, rant and rile. It seems like the only thing we can do.

Somehow, once in a while we clear the written round. Its interview time!! The guy takes a sheet of paper, draws a circuit diagram with like a hundred transistors in it. His question: What will happen if I add a 1K resistor in series with transistors A and B but in parallel with C? The answer I would like to give: “I don’t care what happens. So can I leave now?” The answer I actually give: “I am not strong in analog. You could test me on my digital skills.” Wrong move!! You know why. My digital skills are abominable too. It takes no time for the guy to realize he does not want me. But he humors me with a few more questions. And he smiles after I answer. (I hate it when they do that. I don’t know what that smile means.)

And so it goes on in a hit and try fashion. And one day when you least expect it, your name is up there on the notice board in the placement department. It’s difficult to believe, I feel like I don’t deserve it for the amount of effort I have put in. A voice inside my head says: “God has given you more than you deserve. Start working hard at least from now.” Another voice, a louder one at that: “To hell with the other voice. Its final year!! And you’re placed!! Enjoy!! Do all the crazy things you always wanted to do!! “. I want to listen to the second voice. What do you expect??

One year later, here I am in Qwest, at my desk typing this article on my comp, when all this hype about placements feels like a big joke, while at that time, it was a matter of life and death. Now it’s about my job, my project. Do I have what it takes? Will I get a hang of it? And of course, the same old question, “What do I want to do with my life?” that is still waiting to be answered. I realize now, that in the course of life, we tend to magnify the present so much, that we worry more and do less. We are so obsessed with the miniscule details of the present, that we tend to overlook the profound questions that the future shoots at us. I realize that we are so carried away by circumstances around us, that we lose focus somewhere in the midst of our efforts to be focused.